


Awards Fever

by StrictlyFromCorn (orphan_account)



Series: Fred Astaire x Ginger Rogers [12]
Category: Astaire/Rogers RPF, Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers Movies
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/StrictlyFromCorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred and Ginger are at the Academy Awards, but nominations don't always result in wins. Fred finds that out the hard way - with his first Oscar snub. However, his dancing partner is there to make things better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awards Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Samantha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samantha/gifts).



> I took some liberties with facts in this fanfic - Fred and Ginger weren't nominated for Swing Time (although they should have been!), and Fred was never nominated as Best Actor (SACRILEGE.) but just roll with it, okay?  
> Oh, and also, I found this sitting around on my computer for a little while so I decided to add some finishing touches and post it. I'm dedicating this to the lovely Samantha, as a sort of apology for how long the next part of Dancing in the Dark is taking!

_March 4, 1937._

The Biltmore Hotel was abuzz with excitement that night, for the 9th Academy Awards. Film stars crowded the dinner banquet that was given before the awards presentation - considered to be the most competitive ones thus far. Almost all the nominees were deserving of the awards, but there could only be one winner. That was how the Awards worked, after all.

Near the back of the room, the cast and crew of  _Swing Time_  was gathered around one table. The famous dancing partners, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, were sitting next to each other, hands held in anticipation. The former was dressed immaculately in white tie as always, and his partner looked stunning in a pale green ballroom gown that she had designed for the occasion. With one hand, Fred gripped Ginger’s hand, and with the other, he held onto a chicken wing. Perhaps it wasn’t quite proper for the occasion - but  _what the hell_ , he thought the chicken wings were tasty.

“When are they gonna present the Best Actor award?” Hermes Pan, the choreographer and Fred’s best friend, inquired. He had been nominated for Best Dance Direction - last year, he had been nominated for _Top Hat_  as well - but lost out to the choreographer of  _The Great Ziegfeld_. The cast and crew as a whole had been nominated for lots of things, like Best Picture and Best Director, but so far, only Jerome Kern had won for Best Original Song.

It was something of a running joke in Hollywood, among composers - have your song introduced in an Astaire-Rogers film and you’re just about guaranteed to win for Best Song. It started with “The Continental”, then “Cheek to Cheek”, and now, “The Way You Look Tonight”. (There had been some talk of the Gershwin brothers composing and writing for the next movie, and George remarked, “Oh, so this means we’re gonna win an Academy Award!”) But at any rate, they were happy for Jerome’s success. He sure looked happy when he went up there to receive the award.

“I dunno,” Fred responded between mouthfuls of the chicken wing. Ginger shook her head and giggled at his silliness, and he shot a wide grin in her direction. “I don’t think I’ll win it this year. I mean, look - I’m up against  _Gary Cooper_ , and  _Bill Powell_ , and  _Spencer Tracy_! All those swell actors. I’m just… a hoofer.” He added, concentrating on not getting the chicken wings all over his white tie.

“Shut up, Freddie. You’ve got as great a shot at it as they all do.” Ginger interrupted him, leaning closer towards her partner and resting her head on his shoulder. It was getting a little late for her. She hadn’t won for Best Actress either, which was something of a disappointment, since it was her first nomination, but she definitely thought losing out to Luise Rainer wasn’t too bad. She definitely deserved that win. Hermes was about to add his agreement to Ginger’s statement when they caught sight of the presenter making his way up to the stage, envelope in hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen, silence please.” He waved his hands and waited for the murmuring to die down and for the waiters to clear out the empty plates in front of the attendees. Fred nearly protested when the plate full of chicken wings was taken away, but he caught himself in time. Ginger saw his half-formed objection and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She loved that little idiot. He pretended that he didn’t know that she had seen him, and self-consciously lit a cigarette for himself, trying to hide his grin.

"Now, I have been bestowed with the great honor of presenting the Academy Award for Best Actor…" Fred found himself on the verge of tuning out the presenter’s speech, but the dancer forced himself to listen. If he won the award, it would mean leaps and bounds for his career. Maybe people would finally take him seriously as a dramatic actor.  _Swing Time_  provided him with the chance to stretch his acting abilities, especially with the “Never Gonna Dance” scene at the end. Fred always found himself written off as a “dancer with not that much acting talent”, but he wanted to prove his critics wrong. That was what Ginger had been working at, too - she didn’t want to be typecast, so, she worked on all those serious dramas, as well as her movies with Fred.

“And, with that being said, let me present the award.” It turned out that the dancer chose to listen at precisely the right moment. A hush fell over the crowd, and the air was electric with anticipation. “The Academy Award for Best Actor goes to… Paul Muni, for  _The Story of Louis Pasteur_!” The assembled people erupted into applause, and so did Fred. Part of him really wasn’t surprised - Paul Muni definitely had more of a reputation for serious acting than he did, but the other part of him was really,  _really_  hoping for the award.

“Aww, Freddie, you should’ve won.” Ginger remarked, unwillingly taking her head off his shoulder as he leaned over to stub out the cigarette that was in his hand. “Paul’s great, but so were you.” She added, not quite knowing how he was going to take the loss. She was a bit disappointed, too, but she knew for a fact that she would get over it and make better films and return to the presentation the next year and win.

“They don’t take me seriously as an actor. To them, I’m simply a hoofer. They like seeing our films, but they don’t give us any awards. They don’t know that we go through hell just to make those dances look easy. _Snobs_ , that’s what they are. They want great Shakespearian things - they think the film medium needs to have the same prestige as the theatre. Well, it’s not. You, Hermes and I have reinvented what musicals are, right? I hate those Busby Berkley styles that were in fashion when I first came here. They… don’t understand.” Fred lit a new cigarette and forcefully exhaled the smoke as he muttered those words under his breath. He never was the type to get jealous - in fact, he wasn’t jealous of Paul. He thought Paul deserved the award, but he wanted a bit of recognition for their own films, too. Maybe not for serious, dramatic acting - but just  _something_  to acknowledge the fact that they poured their hearts and souls into those dances.

“Fred.” Ginger stared at him, her blue eyes wide with concern. She had never seen him behave that way before. “You’re right. I don’t know why… but they think that drama is more deserving than comedy. It’s ridiculous. And  _musical_  comedies? Well, I think the fact that we were even  _nominated_ is something to behold.” She rubbed her hand repeatedly across his shoulder in a gesture of comfort and fiddled with the red carnation on his lapel.

“Now, what’s this? Having a little pity party here, are we?” Hermes approached them from behind and took a seat on the opposite side of Fred. “C’mon, you said that you weren’t getting your hopes up in the first place. It was a competitive year.” The choreographer reassured his friend, noting the troubled expression on his face.

“Yeah, but, you didn’t win, either. I mean, I don’t want to keep coming here every year, with a nomination, but with no awards. I don’t wanna sound like a sore loser - really, I think Paul did amazing this year - but the Academy’s snobbery is really getting to me. You know why you didn’t win the award? Because  _Swing Time_ wasn’t meant to be a giant extravaganza like  _The Great Ziegfeld_ was. There’s nothing wrong with that, but our types of films, with simple stories and incredible dances, just… seem to fall off their radar when it comes to recognition. Oh, sure, all of America loves Astaire and Rogers, but they don’t acknowledge what the hell we go through for the end result.” Fred stared at his shoes as he spoke those words, suddenly finding himself as angry as possible with the Academy.

“You know, this only means one thing.” Hermes piped up, which made the two dancing partners turn their attention to him. “We’ve gotta work  _harder_  at it. We’ll work so hard, we’ll make the best picture that there ever will be, and it’ll just be  _too_  good for them not to acknowledge it. Just ‘cause we’re dancers means that we’ll have to work twice as hard as it to be taken seriously, but who cares? Fred, you always said that you love working hard. Well, work at getting the award. If the three of us team up together, who’s gonna stop us?” He grinned at the two of them, already formulating new dance ideas in his head. “Now, come on.” Hermes rose from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Fred asked, with his arm around Ginger.

“To congratulate Paul. And Jerome. And all the winners.” He replied. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” The dancer got up with his partner. Hermes led the way, and the two partners walked more slowly, arms linked. “You know what, Feathers? We’ll roll everyone next year. You know, I’ve speculated that the reason why people love our films, besides the dancing, is our romance. I guess it’s so convincing on-screen - and it better be, because it’s real - that people can’t turn away from it. Say… maybe if I kiss you more often in our next film, they’ll take us more seriously.” Fred joked, grinning and shaking his head at the same time.

“Why don’t you kiss me here, while we’re still at the Awards? That’ll save us from having to wait till next year.” Ginger teased in response, although she could honestly say that she wasn’t expecting him to actually kiss her. Well - he proved her assumptions wrong and turned around, placing two fingers under her chin and leaning in so that their lips met.

Whether or not the Academy would have given them an award for that remains debatable - but one thing is for sure. The Hays Code surely would  _not_  have passed that lip lock!

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a rant on my end for Fred not winning an Academy Award, ever, and it kind of turned into some fluffiness. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
